


Lifeline

by itsaquinnquinnsituation



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:12:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaquinnquinnsituation/pseuds/itsaquinnquinnsituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lifeline" - a line or rope for saving life, as one attached to a lifeboat. (Dictionary Reference)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lifeline

**Author's Note:**

> Any characters, real or fictional, used in this work, do not belong to me. I am not making money off my work. This work of fiction is made for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to offend or insult anyone.
> 
> This is my universe and exactly how I see it. I believe that writing should be enjoyed, not judged. 
> 
> Nothing represented here should be taken as an accurate representation of geographical areas, places or professions. Some very minor injury description, if this bothers you, you are warned.
> 
> This piece kept haunting me for two days and I had to get it out of my head so I can continue functioning like a normal human being. I hope it was worth it.

It was when Zayn’s stomach growled loudly and Harry all but turned to him with raised eyebrows, that he closed the folder and placed it back into its bin. He turned to Harry:

“We’re going home.”

“Alright” – Harry agreed, eyeing a stack of dog-eared papers in his hands, - “But shouldn’t we finish this first?”

“On Monday” – Zayn cut him off, proceeding out of the tiny room, - “I’ve had enough of this for one day.”

“Where are you going?” – Harry caught up with him in a long hallway. He spoke quietly, glancing at nurses and PA’s passing them, going about their business. Harry and Zayn both nodded to their supervising doctor who nodded right back. 

“Don’t know. A club, a bar? I think they were heading up to Liquid tonight” – Zayn replied, bursting into the changing area, - “You coming with?”

“Hm” – Harry placed a key into his locker. He watched Zayn rapidly take off the top shirt of his scrubs. 

Then, all hell broke loose.

The sound from the overhead caller came on so unexpectedly that Harry dropped his locker key and Zayn froze, hands clenching the drawstrings of his scrub trousers. 

“What the hell?” – Harry swallowed, big eyes fixed on Zayn.

As if to answer his question, a red-faced overweight doctor poked his head in and without giving them a look, yelled: “Accident on the bridge, all hands on deck”, before disappearing back into the hall, and, through a closing door, Harry caught sight of two young nurses running, their white coats flapping behind them like superheroes’ capes. He looked back at Zayn.

Zayn had come out of the shock by the looks of it, and was continuing to untie the knot on his trouser drawstrings.

“Zayn?” – Harry watched him pull off his trousers.

“What?” – Zayn looked up at him hopping on one foot, - “I’m not going, Harry.”

“They said…” – Harry pointed up with his index finger as though the overhead caller was actually above him and not in the hallway.

“I heard it” – Zayn replied, standing back on two feet now and folding his scrubs. Harry continued to stare at him, motionless, and, finally, Zayn obliged:

“Our shift is over. Two hours ago.”

“It’s an emergency” – Harry explained, - “Remember when they told us they never use this thing, unless it’s like… bad?”

“I remember” – Zayn responded, shaking out his jeans and aligning them to put them on, - “but things like that happen and life goes on. They have physicians on call for situations like this.”

“I’m going out there” – Harry frowned, slamming his hand on the still-closed locker door and picking up his keys from the floor.

“You’re crazy! Why would you do it? Harry, they are not even paying us, for God’s sake! It’s Friday night, just live a little!”

“Yeah” – Harry eyed him, tight-lipped, before proceeding to the exit door, - “I’d like the other people to be able to live, too.”

Zayn watched him disappear into the hallway. The overhead caller once more requested all available medical personnel to report up front to receive patients. Zayn pulled his t-shirt on and slammed the door of his locker shut. He shook his head. 

 

***

 

By the time Harry got to the emergency reception area, the place was a madhouse. Medical staff was scurrying like rats escaping a sinking ship, less-than-graciously maneuvering between stretchers that were starting to crowd and obstruct the way and the sounds of wailing and orders being given were disorienting. The sensory overload was so great that Harry just stood there for a few seconds with his eyes wide open before someone bumped into him and cursed. Unsure, where to begin, he eyed the waiting area now populated with those in better condition and noticed two stretchers left there unattended. He walked up to one of them and an older woman on it stared at him with an expression of panic in her washed-out grey eyes.

“Are you okay?” – Harry asked and mentally slapped himself for such an idiotic question.

The woman did not appear to mind, however, and surprisingly, gave him a meek thumbs-up. At the same moment, a younger lass began pulling on his scrub sleeve, screaming something unintelligible in a foreign language and pointing frantically at a middle-eastern lad seated in the plastic chair and holding a palm to his forehead. Through his fingers, streaks of blood attempted to make their way down his hand. 

“What happened?” – Harry asked nobody in particular and a passer-by nurse responded without looking:

“Accident on the bridge. A bus toppled over. Major car pile-up.”

Harry looked up at the people, running around, screaming, pulling on him, giving him orders, begging him for help. His eyes kept darting from face to face, white coat to white coat, stretcher to stretcher, catching bits of movement, syllables of words, and he felt frozen in place, his head starting to spin and his knees going weak. In terror, he grabbed for the nearest solid object and squeezed it hard. The – what he later would guess was – oncoming panic attack let up and instead, his eyes fell on the very thing that provided him support in the time of need. It was that second unattended stretcher.

Harry walked two steps over to examine its occupant. It was a young, small, clean-shaven lad, with ruffled, feathery brown hair, dressed in a light-blue shirt and black jeans. His eyes were closed and Harry almost did not spare him a second look, starting to approach the lean brunet doctor standing by the wall who was now screaming his name and motioning frantically for him to come over, when something curious about the lad caught his eye. He wouldn’t remember later whether it was the small dark stain that was visible on his blue shirt over his chest, or his shallow, rapid breathing, or his face, which had taken on some kind of an ashen colour.

“Wait a second” – Harry motioned vaguely to the young doctor who was waving aggressively, cut off from him by a crowd of nurses, struggling to get another stretcher through a somewhat narrow hallway. He stared at the lad’s face.

The lad appeared to be slipping in and out of consciousness. The effort, painted on his face, was almost palpable as he tried to keep his light-blue eyes open but they kept rolling back into his head. Harry bent over, leaning his ear to the lads face and heard a faint crackling as the lad breathed in rapid pants. As Harry was straightening out again, brows frowned and bottom lip bitten hard by his front teeth, the lad suddenly grunted, lifted his head slightly and opened his eyes wide. 

He didn’t say anything, just kept wheezing and crackling, but his blue eyes were locked with Harry’s, and they were awash with pain and a desperate plea for help. And once again Harry felt like he was cocooned in an invisible prism, removed from everything, people running, people screaming, people hurting around him; but in this little world, there was nobody else besides him and an injured young man, speechlessly begging him for help. Harry wasn’t sure how long this moment lasted, only the lad’s eyes closed again, his head fell back on the stretcher and Harry knew then and there, that this was his final cry.

Immediately, Harry pushed through to the young doctor.

“Harry, what the hell, I said “get over he…” – the young Welsh doctor started, opening his huge brown eyes so wide that they looked ready to roll out of their sockets.

“Doctor Inglemore, we need to get that one looked at right now!” – Harry spat out, eyes glaring.

“D… Excuse me? Now, I’m the do… now listen to me, why don’t you take my spot here and…”

“We need to get him looked at right now. He’s unconscious. Help me please with the stretcher!” – Harry all but fell on Dr. Inglemore, pushed from behind by a careless nurse.

“We have more urgent cases at the moment. There’s a man with a head wound and another one with what looks like a spinal injury, but I need you to…”

“Kevin!” – Harry shrieked in desperation and Dr. Inglemore shut up, staring at him and opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“We need to take him to a room. It’s serious. Now!” – Harry repeated and moved back to the stretcher with the young lad, and Dr. Inglemore followed him like a dog on a leash.

“See?” – Harry pointed at the lad with his finger. In the chaos of the open space, he had to yell for the doctor to hear him even though they stood less than ten inches apart.

“What?” – Dr. Inglemore gave the lad a brief once-over, - “Probably was slammed into the wheel, got the wind knocked out of him, it happens.”

“He’s passed out! Do you see the blood?”

“On his shirt? So he cut himself, it…”

“Do you see a cut? We need to take it off and examine him!”

“Harry!” – Dr. Inglemore shrieked, concern more so than annoyance in his voice, - “What the hell is with you?”

“Look at his face, God damn it!”

Dr. Inglemore, still in a daze of shock, let his stare turn from the young resident’s eyes to the injured patient. Watching the doctor’s face carefully, Harry clenched his fists, then snapped again, unable to hold back:

“His lips, Kevin, for God’s sake, his lips are turning blue!”

Dr. Inglemore kept looking from the patient to Harry and back to the patient, and Harry pushed him aside, grabbing for the stretcher.

“What the hell are you…” – Dr. Inglemore trailed behind him before squeezing past the crowd of people to finally grab at the other end of the stretcher, - “This is not according to the protocol, you know, we have more urgent cases...”

“I fucked the protocol” – Harry seethed, nearly running Dr. Inglemore over who was now backing up and struggling to pull the stretcher into the hallway. He made huge eyes at Harry. Before another word came out of his already open mouth, Harry stopped abruptly and motioned to the open door, - “This way!”

Dr. Inglemore moved to pull the stretcher and slipped, half-collapsing onto the doorway and catching himself awkwardly with his tricep. As they finally pushed the stretcher through, Harry vaguely registered in his mind that Dr. Inglemore had slipped on blood.

Once the stretcher was finally stood still, Harry positioned himself around the middle of it and began to swiftly unbutton the lad’s light blue shirt.

“Harry!” – Dr. Inglemore began again, - “We first need to take his vitals. That’s uh… we need to call a nurse, who will then be able to…”

Harry was nodding absent-mindedly, not taking his eyes off the lad’s chest. His fingers trembled as he struggled to get the tiny buttons through their little holes. He felt the lad’s chest barely rise and fall in short, shallow respirations. By the time Harry had succeeded undoing the last button, a few small droplets of sweat materialized on his forehead.

“So?” – Dr. Inglemore was eyeing the lad’s chest with an empty expression and Harry turned to him in an instant, glaring.

“That” – he placed his gloved hand gently onto the lad’s chest which sported some odd-looking bumps, - “Is a broken rib. Several of them. At least one of them is poking through here” – he moved his finger in a circle over a small area where the bone’s end was slightly protruding through the skin.

“I see that” – Dr. Inglemore shrugged, - “An open fracture, it happens. Doesn’t look too bad though, it’s rathe…”

But Harry was not listening again. He stared at the lad’s pale face, his thin lips which have become dry and white and watched his chest rise and fall. *Give me a clue there, buddy, for God’s sake, just give me a clue.*

“Harry, we’re going to need to… I seriously… if someone finds out, I’m gonna…” – Dr. Inglemore started again but Harry cut him off:

“Here.”

Gently, he traced his gloved finger along the lad’s ribs which, clearly disconnected from the sternum, seemed to disappear deep into his chest.

“I…” – Dr. Inglemore started in the same anxious tone as before, but suddenly his eyes went big again and his mouth froze in its open position. Harry turned and looked at his grimace, eyes unblinking and dark with determination.

“I… I would have to confirm it… but… it… it looks like… well it could be…” – Dr. Inglemore swallowed, - “A pierced lung.”

And Harry just nodded in silence. 

 

***

 

“Uh” – Dr. Inglemore’s voice came husky after a beat. He looked in a frenzy around the room and noticed a nurse which had materialized there as if by magic and was now looking at him like a dog, ready for a walk around the block, - “We’re going to need to… I’m… I’m going to call another doctor… We’ll need to transport him… and then we’ll have to…you” – his eyes suddenly locked with Harry’s and he swallowed again, - “can you assist with this?”

“Uh” – Harry stalled for just a second before adding firmly, - “Yes, I certainly can.”

“Have you done this before?” – Dr. Inglemore squinted.

“No”- Harry admitted, but added hastily, - “But I’ve practiced on dummies and I am good at following instructions.”

“Right” – Dr. Inglemore chewed his lip. He eyed first the patient and then Harry again, - “Let’s go!” – He turned to the nurse, - “We’re going to need some help.”

 

***

 

It was only when Harry’s gaze fell on Dr. Inglemore’s hands when they were washing up side by side, that Harry stopped grinding his teeth whilst eyeing the slightly shorter Welsh lad out of the corner of his eye. Dr. Inglemore’s hands were shaking. Harry lifted his gaze up to the lad’s face which was now almost as ashen as the face of the injured patient, who they had opened and stitched back up just a few hours ago. Dr. Inglemore’s big brown eyes now locked with Harry’s.

“It’s the… if you… “- Now that he had taken off his white coat, Harry noticed how slender he was, obviously swimming in his size-small scrubs, - “if you hadn’t…” – Dr. Inglemore choked and his voice cracked, - “Harry, if you hadn’t… he… he had… a collapsed lung….he was bleeding internally… He would have… he could have drowned in his own blood… he….”

“Kevin” – Harry placed his still-wet hand on the bony shoulder of the Welsh doctor. Dr. Inglemore was looking at him with pleading eyes, - “He’s fine. He’s alright now. He’s going to be fine.”

“I…” – Kevin Inglemore backed away from the sink, dripping water onto the floor, - “I…”

They stood in silence, their gazes locked. Then Harry blinked slowly and bowed his head in a tiny half-nod. Dr. Inglemore raised his hand weakly and backed out of the room.

 

***

 

When he was driving home, the sun was already on its way to welcome a brand new day. The objects in his vision swam a little and he absent-mindedly noted that he hadn’t eaten in at least ten hours. He took at least five minutes to climb two flights of stairs and was barely able to get the key into the lock. Finally inside, he stumbled over to the sofa and fell on it, face down. Taking off his jacket and kicking off his shoes, he pulled a small square quilt over himself as the images of the crowded emergency waiting area, Dr. Inglemore slipping on blood, and his own hands, passing the surgical instruments back and forth invaded his mind, but it was the young feathery-haired lad’s pleading blue eyes that haunted him throughout the short five-and-a-half hours of sleep that he managed to squeeze out of the eager morning which gently ushered the sleepy rays of sun into the quiet comfort of his living room…

 

***

 

Not thirty minutes after the anxiety had gotten the better of him, he bolted off the sofa, having barely managed to convince himself to take a quick shower and grab a small bite to eat. After catching a glimpse of his own blood-shot eyes in the bathroom mirror, he picked up the car keys and was out of the door. 

 

***

 

It didn’t take too long to find out the name of the patient after he showed up at the front-desk of the hospital, which was still busy, although far less of a madhouse that it was during the night before. “It’s funny” – he thought, ignoring the odd looks he received from the girls at the front desk and nodding at the few people he passed on the way, - “the whole night I was with him I didn’t know his name.” It was Louis. Harry smiled. Louis something. It didn’t really matter, he could find out later if he wanted. Louis. That was a rather lovely name.

When he finally reached his hospital room, he stalled, heart racing, and took a few deep breaths before even looking through a semi-opaque door. The lad appeared to be resting. He hesitated for a few short moments but decided to walk in before he started attracting attention of the passers-by.

He was instantly taken aback, when, upon squeezing through the door, he found Louis’ head turn quickly in his direction, and the lad’s lips stretched into a tiny pained smile. Although Louis had done remarkably well last night, Harry did not expect him to be awake so soon after the procedures.

“Uhm” – Louis croaked, and right away Harry jumped up to his bed, grabbing a glass of water from the tray and allowing him to take a couple of sips through the straw. Louis blinked once slowly in appreciation.

“I’m…” 

“You’re…” – both of them started at the same time, and Harry smiled. Louis followed suit, not taking his blue eyes off of his visitor.

“Are you… Dr. Inglemore?” – Louis asked, then allowed his eyes to skim over Harry, - “You don’t look like a doctor, unless the dresscode and uniforms in this hospital have been abolished and I just didn’t get the memo.”

“I…” – Harry laughed, - “No, I’m actually a resident here. I would normally wear scrubs but I had just gotten in and… Dr. Inglemore’s here?”

“They told me he’d come by and see me, so I guess so?” – Louis raised his eyebrows and Harry thought he’d also probably shrug as well for the effect had he not been in pain, which he – admittedly – was surviving quite stoically.

Harry nodded, unable to stop smiling. Louis was really quite beautiful, now that some colour had returned to his face and his eyes were cheerfully shining rather than begging for help. His voice was surprisingly high for a lad and Harry was mentally taken aback for a second. But that’s not too bad, Harry thought, after awhile, it would probably suit him just right. 

“So…” – Louis started, motioning at him slightly with his head, - “Well, you look quite terrible there, might I say so myself. Bad night?”

“It was… a little… busy here” – Harry explained carefully.

“What did you do?” – Louis explained, noting Harry’s raised eye-brows, - “I mean, what do you residents do? Observe? Something like that?”

“Something like that, yeah” – Harry agreed, smiling. 

“I guess I got stitched up last night. That or hit in the chest with a giant shovel. One of the two” – Louis smiled weakly and Harry laughed again, - “Hope you didn’t have to witness whatever they did to me here…”

Harry motioned with his head ambiguously, still smiling. He could swear he saw more pink starting to collect into a gentle glow on Louis’ pale cheeks.

Louis looked down and Harry noticed him trying to hide a smile. Suddenly, the lad lifted his eyes up again and squinted, a line creasing his forehead:

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Harry shrugged:

“No… no, I don’t think so…unless you frequent this hospital, which I’d hope – for your own sake – that you don’t…”

“No, no… I’m studying Arts at the Uni… but it’s… it’s uncanny… your eyes, I mean, I’d swear… I swear I had seen you before…” – Louis was looking at him and Harry felt a pang in his stomach, desperately attempting to not look away.

“Oh well” – Louis said finally and shifted his gaze, - “Maybe I dreamed you up whilst I was knocked out… that or the meds. One of the two.”

Harry smiled at him again and suddenly, an approaching clamour of voices caused Louis’ eyes to widen, and he winced slightly:

“That would be my family. Guess, they are finally here.”

Harry’s smile fell as he started backing away towards the door.

“I’ll see you later, won’t I?” – He heard Louis call after him and he raised his eyes to find Louis sporting the loveliest kind of a bashful smile, - “I mean you’ll come visit me again, right?”

Before Harry had a chance to answer however, he was blindsided by several yelping girls, who shove him out of the way, and he nearly tripped over a woman who he assumed to be Louis’ mother and who gave him a questioning look as he backed out of her son’s hospital room.

Then, Harry just stood there, frozen, outside his last night’s patient’s hospital room, looking at him through the half-opaque door, watching him being surrounded by four young girls and their mother, who was trying her best to keep them off of his bed. It was only when Louis looked at him through the glass door and smiled that Harry came out of it, took an awkward step back and, involuntarily, smiled back. He waved hastily, unsure if Louis could see him, and proceeded on his way down the hallway.

“It’s funny,” he thought. Louis was his first last night, but he definitely wouldn’t be his last. It’s something he’d have to get used to in this occupation. But it is just like they say, first cut is the deepest. There’s no way that this lad, Louis, could be anything but special to him now. 

“I’ll see you later, won’t I? I mean, you’ll come visit me again, right?” Harry smiled to himself, remembering Louis’ words. Damn right, he would visit him again. And probably, more than once. Louis never asked him why he was visiting him, and didn’t even inquire his name. It may have appeared strange to someone else, but Harry really didn’t mind. It was fine, it was just fine, it was perfect, in fact, because Louis had to be a unique, special kind of person… that, or it must have been fate. You know. One of the two.


End file.
